


The Impossible Dream

by rexluscus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-06
Updated: 2011-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexluscus/pseuds/rexluscus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Did you ever notice in that "pyjama party" scene in GoF how quickly Snape and Filch both made it to the scene, and how near-by Snape's quarters seemed to be? Um…yeah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Impossible Dream

"Does your blasted  _cat_  have to watch?" Snape grunted at the sudden penetration despite his annoyance. He was spreadeagled facedown on his bed with his wrists tightly bound to the headboard while Filch behind him, grungy trousers around his thighs, pumped inside with hard, uneven jerks.

"She's all right," Filch panted. "Cats know nothing of modesty."

Snape  _hmph_ ed even as he turned his face to the other side, away from the horrible, unblinking stare.

He was getting close. His eyes slipped shut and a low moan welled up from his chest, sweet pleasure suffusing his—

A piercing screech erupted outside in the corridors.

Filch froze in mid-thrust. Snape gave a strangled, gut-deep groan of utter bereavement. The force of his would-be orgasm slammed back into him like a lead ingot dropped into his balls.

"Peeves!" Filch cried, pulling his still-hard cock out of Snape and quickly doing up his trousers. Snape protested with a beseeching moan. Before he could even regain the language to curse Filch up and down, the man had vanished out the door, his awful cat darting between his ankles. 

Once his body had recovered somewhat from the incredible indignity, Snape stuck out his toe for his wand on the corner of the bed, and said a spell to release his wrists. Then he struggled his nightshirt over his head and hurried out into the corridor on the heels of the thrice-damned caretaker.

* * *

"Now, where were we?" Filch rubbed his hands together and began getting his trousers back open.

Snape looked back resentfully. He was on his hands and knees now, all unnecessary accessories forgotten. "You could've waited fifteen seconds, you know."

"Don't worry," Filch said and entered him with a cheerful thrust. Snape gave a surprised grunt. "I'll take care of you now, Professor." Within moments, he was pumping away again, moaning and muttering happily. "Ah…yes…oh, that's the stuff, lad…"

Snape closed his eyes and tried to return to where he'd left off. 

It wasn't happening.

"Potter," he murmured.

"Whassat?" Filch called. "Harder?" Snape nearly fell onto his face as Filch immediately obliged him.

"I said…POTTER!"

There was a distinct pause between the thrusts.

Snape ignored it. "One of these days, Filch," Snape crowed breathlessly, turning his head around, "I am going to murder him with my BARE HANDS!"

"Well!" Filch looked offended. "It can wait a few minutes, can't it?" His next thrust had a bit of spleen behind it. Snape gasped and pitched forward.

He propped himself back up on his elbows and tried to enjoy the molten heat building in his pelvis…ah, that delicious feeling of being filled, being stroked from the inside, that sweet mounting delight…and then his body went rigid and his eyes flew open. "Potter!" he hissed under his breath. Filch carried on in oblivious abandon.

Squeezing his eyes shut and pushing back on the cock in his arse, he imagined his hands closing around Potter's throat. As his balls began to tighten and tingle, he pictured himself shaking Potter until those stupid glasses pitched free. Mouth gaping in a silent scream as bliss raged through him from stem to stern, he saw Potter's tongue lolling out and little X's appearing over his eyes like a cartoon. Oh yes…oh god…oh…

He panted for a moment, stunned and flooded with pleasure. Then he flopped onto his face, or as best he could with Filch still pounding away. One day, he would realize that dream, he mused blearily with a sloppy grin. He would have that special delight, if he had to move heaven and earth for it. And might just. He gave a contented sigh.


End file.
